Chapter One
August
I was a nerd, but I wasn't a super nerd. I wasn't like the guys you might see on those made-for-TV-series who could tell you the exact amount of force needed to propel a football forty-five yards at a twenty-four degree angle on a cloudy day with a wind speed of three miles an hour depending on the chemical make-up of the gases in the ball and the PPI to get it through the field goal to win a tight game.
Okay, I probably could, but I'd at least need a calculator, paper and pencil. The only thing I was really able to calculate in my head was my ability to be completely invisible in a group… and make an absolute fool of myself when given the opportunity to stand out.
Like, if the window was open in a classroom, and Mr. Waters––me, I'm Mr. Waters––was standing on a desk that was about forty inches high and the wind was blowing outside at about eleven miles an hour… Mr. Waters was still likely to be startled when the classroom door swung open with enough force to bounce off the wall loudly and make the window slam shut, and he was probably going to slip on the cellophane wrap that was once around the ugly ass border ribbon he'd been on the desk trying to hang, and he was probably going to try to step down on the desk chair… with wheels so he didn't just completely fall in the floor with no halfway point to break his fall, but that bastard was going to roll slightly, making him start falling the other way, and then he was going to grab at the desk before falling directly into the fifty gallon trashcan full of papers and decorations he just cleaned out from where the former teaching professional of the room had apparently just gone running out of the room in the middle of teaching a chemistry class because kids were jerks.
I could only imagine the mess that was the senior class going on to college this year when the last two months of their year was spent learning chemistry from a different substitute every day.
So, yeah. The trashcan thing happened, and not only did I land in it, I tipped the thing and got vomited out of it with a ton of construction paper and a few things I'd found in the desk that were questionable.
"Newell!" A man with a deep… and recognizable voice yelled before I heard the thundering of his feet as he raced across the floor toward me.
I sighed, keeping my eyes closed as I lay there in my humiliation, not wanting to open my eyes and see who I knew would be there.
"Here, let me help you," Lawton Foster––the Lawton Foster that I spent much of my high school life in Salida crushing on––said, as strong hands slid beneath me and lifted me off the floor with ease, making me gasp.
My eyes snapped open, and I watched his face in shock as he gently lowered me to the floor, waiting until I was fully standing before stepping back to look me over.
"Thank… you," I squeaked out before clearing my throat.
He was still unfairly gorgeous. Not that I hadn't already known that. You don't come back to the town you were forced to abandon years before and not look up your old crush from high school, especially after you find out that he is not only still living there, but he is working in the same damn school you are.
"Hi," he said softly when his eyes met mine.
"Hi." I cringed at how breathless I sounded, but he didn't seem to notice as his hands settled on my sides before falling away from my body when it was obvious I could actually stand on my own, leaving the skin on one side tingling where my shirt had ridden up slightly.
"Do you remember me?"
I chuckled nervously, pressing my glasses back up on my nose, and tugging on my shirt to make it settle back in the correct position. "Yes. You're Lawton Foster."
"Yes! I'm so glad you remember. I was debating just introducing myself like we were strangers, so I didn't seem like a weirdo if it turned out you couldn't remember me, but then I scared you and you fell, and I forgot to pretend I don't know you."
I blinked in surprise. Did he really think it was even possible to forget him? He was like the biggest crush I'd ever had,